Men swam toward the small boats, the nearest galley.
I saw more than one drawn beneath the surface. Fins were everywhere. I felt the mat of vines to which I clung turn, and begin to drift. The wreckage of the galley of Seremides seemed farther away now. I saw no sign of the galley of Pertinax. Soon, as I lay, I could no longer see the small boats, or any galleys. There is restlessness in the Vine Sea, as in any sea, and swells, and local currents, and the sea itself, tangled and beautiful, oppressive, and terrible, despite its vastness, moves from time to time, seasonably, predictably, even hundreds of pasangs, as might any object, large or small, afloat on Thassa, with her hundred moods and thousand currents.
I think most of my fellows had sought the small boats.
As noted, I could not now see them, as I was positioned, but I knew they were there. I could hear men in the distance. Were I able to stand I had little doubt I could see them, and certainly one or more galleys. Even as I lay still in my bed of vines and blossoms I could, turning my head, see the great ship, in the distance.
It was now quiet about me, save for the lapping of the water.
There seemed none about.
I was much alone.
I was not afraid of being left, or abandoned. I was afraid, rather, of what I knew was in the water.
“Ho, Callias!” I heard.
“Tal, Durbar!” I called.
I remembered him from the pumps, when, during the time of the great storms they had been manned twenty Ahn a day.
He was better situated than I, for he crouched on two nailed beams, which must have been from the hull of one of the two destroyed galleys.
He was some forty feet away.
There was other wreckage about.
Needless to say, I was much pleased to see him.
“You are in danger!” he called.
I considered swimming to join him.
A blossom floated by.
A fin glided past.
“Perhaps less here than there!” I said.
I was not eager to negotiate the water between us.
“As you will!” he said.
But I saw a swimmer clamber to his makeshift vessel. One end of the beams descended beneath the waves, under the weight of the newcomer. I did not think they would well bear the weight of two. Durbar turned about, cried once, and reeled from the beams, plunging into the water, his jacket red. Across the space between us I saw Seremides, his eyes on me. He did not have his sword, but there was a knife in his hand. He stood unsteadily on the narrow wreckage.
In the water Durbar, the water red about him, gasping, confused, extended his hand to Seremides, who did not accept his hand, perhaps fearing the loss of balance, but motioned him closer. When Durbar got his hands upon the beams Seremides kicked out, viciously, and Durbar, I think his neck was broken, slipped away, beneath the water.
Seremides stood on the beams, regarding me.
“Noble Callias,” said he, affably. “Approach.”
I remained where I was, and looked about. I saw no one near.
“That is an order!” said Seremides.
“Deliver it to another,” I said.
Seremides looked about, and then put the knife in his belt, and then, kneeling on the beams, pulled at some floating vinage, and his narrow vessel inched toward me. He tried to urge it toward me, too, with his body. He dipped his right arm into the water, and pushed back, against the water. Again his tiny bark approached me, a little. It was heavy, and not easily moved. I did not think he would risk throwing the knife. I suspected the turning currents, the natural eddies amongst the vines, might bring us together, sooner or later. It would be a matter of time.
I wondered how many men, if about, would welcome this opportunity to do away with Seremides.
But we seemed much alone.
The nearest galley, I conjectured, from the faint sounds I heard, men calling out, was two hundred yards distant. It would probably be encircled by small boats.
Much vinage was now about, as it had drifted back, tending to close the road which had been cut through it. Such things shift in the currents, closing gaps, being arrested only against more of its kind.
Seremides stood up and looked about.
Apparently he saw no one, at least nearby.
He then, eyes glinting, once more kneeling down, tried more earnestly, even rashly, even heedlessly, to force his way toward me.
I took it he wanted to reach me before others might note our position.
I did not think it wise for Seremides to splash at the side of his support.
There was still blood in the water, from the tharlarion, from some fellows taken by sharks, and, now, from Durbar.
Too, I had seen a fin glide by, but a moment ago.
Perhaps he, then in the water, had seen it, too.
The possible danger of his activity must have occurred to him, as he soon ceased to propel his craft in that perilous fashion.
The splashing, of course, had occurred.
Hopefully, it had been unnoted.
An occasional swell, lifting the circumambient vines and blossoms, moved his small vessel, and the raft of vinage to which I clung.
“Ho!” I called, half in water, half prostrate amongst the vines, unable to stand. “Help! Help!”
But none heard me.
“Swim to me,” coaxed Seremides. “Join me. It will be safe. I will not hurt you.”
We were now some ten or fifteen feet apart.
I felt something long, seven or eight feet in length, and rough, like a rasp, pass, moving beneath the water, against my leg.
I clutched the vinage.
“So,” smiled Seremides, “you are frightened.”
He removed his knife from his belt.
I did not think, again, he would risk throwing it.
He stood, unsteadily, on his support.
“The sea is my ally,” he said. “It will soon enable me to greet you.”
I said nothing. There seemed no one about.
His small bark drifted nearer, as did a number of vines and blossoms. So, too, it must have, Ehn earlier, when bearing Durbar.
“I have waited long for this,” said he, “noble Callias.”
There was then a swell of water, and I saw it lift his vessel two or three feet, and he cried out in triumph and I knew that, in its descent, sliding down the slope of that swell, it would be upon me, and I plunged beneath the water, dragged myself down, beneath the vines, swam what I could, some yards, and then, gasping, shaking my head, I emerged amongst clustered vines, some wrapped about my body, and legs, snakelike.
But I saw nothing of Seremides.
I was terrified to be in the water, as I knew what was there.
I knew he must be in the water, but I feared him the least of what might be about.